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You could run, but that means arriving at the gate already exhausted before fighting the violent stoneman. Also, you don't have confidence that you can arrive before the time limit.
Perhaps it's time to experiment with an idea that had been percolating in your brain for awhile. You run out of your bedroom while struggling to pin the Black Prince in place and rush to the kitchen. The corridor just outside is alive with servants dashing towards your room. They had heard the bed splinter into pieces.
"Meep, what was that racket? Are you okay, your Majesty!?" One of the servants shouts.
"I'm fine! Everyone out of the way!"
You bark out the order, and the Baphomets jump out of your way in the corridors. It takes a few minutes, but you arrive at the busy kitchen. Smoke, the smell of meat, baking oatcakes, and boiling sauces greet your nose long before seeing it. You order all unused pots and pans to be shown.
The kitchen staff hastily laid out unused bronze and brass cooking pots and pans on the stone floor without question. One particular item attracts your attention. It is an oblong shallow pot as long as a snowboard. It is the perfect vessel to convey your kingly self to the main Gates of Camelot.
You grab the surprisingly light metal pan and dash towards a location that had attracted your attention and sparked imagination every time you walked up to the Castle. There are tatebori vertical dry moats chiseled into gently sloping sides of the heights that go all the way down into the city. The defensive feature is almost like a sliding track.
The rain has made everything slick and wet; it only needs a slight application of your ice powers to freeze and become a smooth passage.
"Grant me an icy path to glide downwards to my opponent."
The familiar tingle of magic shivers down your finger pointing towards the path you want to take. Whitish frost forms on the dew soaked grass. It is time to kick off...
>3 anons, roll 2d6 each!....
